


On A Promise

by Attasee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Sex Toys, the promise of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 20:45:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4639590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attasee/pseuds/Attasee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek's on a promise from Stiles but he has to battle through his mother, Chris Argent's novelty jumpers, Christmas cake, and hairspray just to get there...</p>
            </blockquote>





	On A Promise

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from, or why I've set it on Christmas Day. I also have randomly given Derek a middle name. 
> 
> This hasn't been beta'd so if there any mistakes sorry and I'll fix. This was fun to write.

Derek feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and knows damn well it’s the text he has been waiting for.

“Mom, I gotta go,” he shouts back inside the house to where he knows Talia Hale is stood watching him from the kitchen window. “Gotta meet someone.”

No sooner has he said it however the screen door opens and his Mom storms out.

“Derek, you promised,” she shouts back, her eyes flashing red in the process.

Derek sighs. Of course she is right. He had promised. He’d promised from the bottom of his soul that he would sit through a full Christmas dinner, each as much pie as he could; be as polite as he could to the members of his family he hated, before escaping in a similar fashion as he does most years.

That was until he got the text.

The text that’s now burning a hole in his pocket and making Derek’s dick twitch just thinking about the contents.

“Mom, I gotta go,” he finally replies ignoring the extra flash of red eye she gives him. _Damn Alpha._

Talia Hale isn’t one to back down though. She puffs her body up to its full height and throws a look at Derek that he knows he will feel into sometime next week.

“House, now.”

Huffing Derek feels the phone vibrate once more. Was that another text he thinks? Or a reminder?

Of course he could just look – yes he knows that - but Derek also knows whatever is in that message is going to send his blood pressure through the roof and make his heartbeat spike and that’s frankly a big no go when you live with a family of wolves.

“Derek Romero Hale. Now.”

Derek tuts when he hears his full name. He’s just glad she hasn’t said it in the company of others. “Mom I’m twenty four.”

“You are still my son.”

Tutting louder this time he reluctantly follows Talia back into the house and towards the dining room where all his family are patiently waiting.

“Why did you leave the room anyway?” she asks opening the dining room door so he can walk in before her.

Good question Derek thinks and one he needs to answer with a lie, because there is no way he can say _‘I knew Stiles was finishing is meal at Scott’s at 3.30pm and was texting me to tell me to meet him at his place for a bit of afternoon delight?’_ is there?   

“Fresh air Mom, it gets stuffy in here.”

Talia hums a reply.

Of course the meal drags on and now Derek has felt his phone vibrate more than five times in his pocket. He knows that Stiles won’t be panicking yet, no the randy little shit will be either texting him or sending him photos of himself in various stages of undress knowing exactly what it does to Derek.

“Are you okay son?” Derek’s dad asks suddenly. He nudges Derek’s arm as he does so.

“Yeah Dad, I just gotta meet a friend in a bit.”

“What? Now?”

“They’re waiting.” _Oh boy was Stiles waiting._

Taking pity on him – because James Hale is the parent out of the two whom is most like Derek and hates family get together’s – he simply nudges Derek again and indicates to the door that he can leave.

“Sneak out son – but do me a favour when you’re on your way?”

Derek nods – because he has too – the man is letting him leave early and get out of listening to Uncle Peter read the yearly newsletters they receive from relatives who live across the country. Who gives a shit about Great Aunt Mary and her begonias, or come to think of it the trouble the Hale’s living on the east coast are having with the weather?

“Drop this off at The Argents… I promised I’d get Chris one as soon as it arrived.” James says pushing a small box into Derek’s hand.

Not asking what it is Derek slips the box into the pocket of his jeans, nods at his father, ignores his mother and makes for the front door.

~~

It takes him ten minutes to get to the Argent’s and _Holy Shit_ it sounds like they are singing Christmas songs.

“Mr Argent? Chris?!” Derek shouts over a verse of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer hammering on the wooden door. “I got the stuff from my dad.”

It takes them a further three minutes to answer. Chris Argent finally opens the door wearing the most ridiculous knitted jumper Derek has ever seen.

“My dad said to give you this,” Derek quickly says pushing the small box into the hunter’s hand. Because _‘come on’_ … “Said you’d be waiting for it.”

“Oh good!” Chris exclaims, “the missing part for the new crossbow I ordered. This is turning into quite the Christmas.”

Derek nods and raises his eyebrows, because please forgive him he still isn’t 100% with Chris Argent and the Hale family being best buddies. The truce is new and fragile and sometimes hanging on a thread.

Except, apparently when it comes cross bow parts.

“I’ll tell him you liked it Sir,” Derek says politely. He is now itching to get away from the Argents house but trying not to make it so obvious. If he had his way he would have pushed the damn thing through the letter box and run but fragile friendships and all that. Also Derek might well be currently gagging for a piece of Stiles but knows he can’t possibly upset his father.

Or he doesn’t think he can until he feels the phone vibrate in his pocket once more.

“Fuck,” Derek groans under his breathe.

“Would you mind doing me a favour Derek?” Chris asks suddenly.

“Erm… yeah… anything Sir?” Derek replies. Now he is cursing his father and ‘truths’ and anyone in a mile radius.

“Would you mind dropping something off at my Aunt’s? She lives alone and wouldn’t come to dinner.”

“Erm?” because _fuck you._  

Before Derek can say no, a plastic food box is thrust into his hands along with a foil covered serving dish that smells of Turkey and stuffing.

“She’s lives up by the high school – the house on the end with the reindeer in the garden, - you can’t miss it – oh and thanks Derek – you’re a life saver.”

Now looking at a closed door Derek eyes the two trays he is holding and growls under his breath.

Does he have time for this?

He checks the time on the Camaro’s clock as soon as he has secured the food into the foot well of the vehicle.

Stiles’ father is on shift till 9pm. It’s now 6pm. The drive across town will take Derek ten minutes if he puts his foot down.

He can do this.

He can

~~ 

“Now then young man, sit down and let me cut you a piece of this cake and pour you a nice cup of tea.”

_Jesus Fucking Christ_

 ~~

“Mrs. Doyle? Are you there? Mrs Argent says you’re expecting me?” Derek shouts through the door. He can clearly hear the sound of someone moving about, tutting and muttering to themselves as they come closer to the door. “I’ve got your knitting patterns,” he shouts throwing a silent curse in there also for good measure.

This is now Derek’s third stop on what should have been a ten minute drive to Stiles’ house, a one minute walk up Stiles’ stairs and ten seconds - give or take - to be balls deep in guy and Derek is getting frustrated. However after visiting Chris Argent’s aunt and doing high tea with her, he is now stood outside of her bridge partner’s house with two knitting patterns and piece of the Christmas Cake Derek had the pleasure of nearly choking on only twenty minutes before.

“Who are you?” the voice finally answers.

“Derek Hale, James Hale’s son.”

He hears a snorting sound. “What do you want?”

“Knitting patterns and cake delivery,” he replies as cheerfully as he can (aka through gritted teeth).

“From Else Argent?”

“Yes.”

“Well you better come in then.”

The door opens slowly and Derek is confronted by the wall of perfume and hair that belongs to Mrs Doyle. He’s seen her around town a few times yet nothing ever really prepares a person for her close up.

“James Hale’s son you say?” she asks, the bouffant of hair not moving an inch. He suspects a whole can of hairspray was sacrificed for the job. “You run with the Stilinski boy to don’t you?”

Derek nods at her. He would be fucking and screwing him also if she hurried it up and he had his way. “Yes Mam. Your knitting patterns?” he says handing her the package quickly. “Merry Christmas.”

“Give them here then,” she replies, “and shoot, you obviously are on a promise or something.”

Grinning, because yeah, that was kinda cool of her and also slightly surprising. Was it written all over his face? Not watching for an answer Derek quickly gives her a nod and runs back down the short driveway to his car.

~~

Derek’s clear now, he has no more parcels to deliver and all he has to do is get across town and to Stiles’ house so he – they – have a good few hours before the Sheriff gets home.

Pulling away from the kerb side Derek takes all the right and lefts turns he needs to carefully, until he pulls into the end of Stiles road spots the police cruiser outside of the house.

What the fuck?

Stiles said his dad was a longish day only getting home at 8pm.

Bringing the Camaro to a halt he switches off the engine. How was he going to do this? He couldn’t just walk in – not yet anyway – he and Stiles had sort of decided to keep their relationship on the quiet until he return to college. Or should he call first? Check the coast is clear?

Derek bangs his head on the steering wheel in frustration.

What would Stiles do?

Well he knows damn well that Stiles would probably just get on with it; walk up to the house and use his smart mouth to make up a random excuse why he was there.  

Before Derek realises what’s happening he is doing just that, storming up the pathway, past the cruiser and towards the front door at exactly the same time Sherriff Stilinski is coming out of it.

_Perfect._ Derek thinks. _Just perfect._

“You okay son?” the Sheriff asks as he fixes his holster in a manner that has Derek squirming a little. “Something wrong?”

Derek pauses for a moment, he could really blow this. He knows Stiles is inside waiting for him, “Yeah my mom asked me to bob around with some cake for you and Stiles.” He says thinking on his feet – it’s half true… he’s been around the houses delivering to everyone else today.

“She did, did she?”

“Yes Sir.”

“You eat it on the way over?”

“Erm?” Because yeah – he doesn’t have any cake.

From beneath the sound of his own thundering heartbeat Derek can hear the Sheriff chuckling to himself.

“Go on in son, he’s watching some rubbish Christmas film.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Derek doesn’t think he’s ever moved as quickly before as the Sheriff finishes talking. He one steps the wooden stairs that lead to Stiles’ house and bangs on the door whilst ignoring the fact that he can hear the Sheriff muttering under his breath someone to the tune of _‘they must think I’m a mug.’_

“Dude! Thank fuck you got my texts!” Stiles exclaims before the door is fully open and Derek is pulled inside.

_Really?_ “Well I hav-.”

“He came home early for a break. I couldn’t believe it when he said he had an hour before he went back to work. Good thing though Sourwolf? He’s taken a double shift so that means we got longer than we normal – although let’s be honest with your stamina big guy that’s sometimes a blessing. But seriously this plug in my arse? It’s beginning to make my eyes water.”

“You’re wearing a plug?” because yes, that’s all Derek took from that.

“Your Thankgiving, Christmas and god damn Valentine Day promise of afternoon delight rolled into one dude.”

Derek almost howls.

In fact he does.

And he’s pretty sure he makes Stiles howl a few times too.


End file.
